All the Times I Saw Arthur Cry
by silkplants
Summary: All the times I, Alfred F. Jones, saw Arthur cry. USUK. Human AU.


My name is Alfred F. Jones, and this is a collection of all the times I saw Arthur cry.

When we were six, Arthur and I were in my backyard. I told him I didn't think he could climb a tree, and in an attempt to prove me wrong, he fell. I laughed, going over to help him up. He looked up at me, and tears started falling down his cheeks. I remember feeling guilty.

When we were eleven, Arthur knocked on my door, sobbing and begging I let him in. I did so, and shut the door behind him. He told me he was trying to get away, he never told me what from. I remember feeling angry, at whoever hurt him so much.

When we were thirteen, I found out who was hurting him. They cornered him one day, telling him disgusting things and shoving him around until he couldn't help himself from crying. I should have done something. I didn't. I never told him I was there when it happened, but I think he knew.

When we were fourteen, they had moved on, they didn't care about Arthur anymore. We were walking in the park, just talking as usual. I told a stupid joke, I can't remember what it was, but I remember that Arthur laughed until he cried. I laughed too, but I didn't think my joke was very funny. I just liked seeing him laugh.

When we were sixteen, Arthur and I were almost polar opposites. While I was very popular in school, and part of the football team. Arthur was a recluse, and it never failed to surprise people when I told them he was my best friend. One afternoon, Arthur told me he had to talk to me. I followed him into an empty room, and he told me he was gay. I laughed it off, though I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I got panicky, I think. I told him it was alright as long as he didn't hit on me while he was in his gay phase. He looked surprised at that, and ran away, sniffling. He didn't talk to me for a long time. I felt terrible.

When we were seventeen, Arthur and I were talking again, but recently he had begun to push me away. I confronted him about it in the hallways, and kept him cornered until he admitted he liked me. I remember stepping back and shaking my head, looking down at the ground. I told him no, I told him to leave, and he did, wiping his eyes. I remember that I was confused.

When we were eighteen, I realized I liked Arthur back. I didn't cry, but I was angry for a while. I didn't want to like Arthur back.

When we were nineteen, Arthur moved back to England. I never told him I liked him. He bid me goodbye, eyes watering just a little. He then waved, walking away and getting in the car. I waved until I couldn't see his car anymore.

When we were twenty-one, I took a surprise trip out to England to see him. I went to his apartment, knocking on the door with a grin. He opened the door, eyes widening when he saw me. I pulled him into a hug, and soon enough we were in his living room, talking about anything and everything. We got on the subject of high school, and I went quiet. He questioned my silence after a little while, and after a little more asking, I told the whole story, and I told him how I felt about him. How I still felt. I got a little emotional, guilty from all the trouble I gave him. He thought about it for a long while, eventually giving me a tentative kiss on the cheek and telling me we could maybe go on one date and see if it worked out. I asked him if he was upset, he chuckled and told me that he was crying on the inside, if it made me feel any better. I told him it didn't.

When we were twenty-four, I walked him out of our shared apartment. I was nervous and a bit pale, and of course Arthur noticed. He always does. He kept asking me if I was alright, and I kept assuring him I was. I took him out to eat, and then on a walk in the town, and then I brought him back home. I stopped him on our doorstep, and he looked at me, raising a brow and asking what I was doing. I took a deep breath, got on one knee and asked him to marry me. I opened a small box, a silver ring inside. He started to cry, nodding and smiling. He put on the ring, kissing me and wrapping his arms around me. We went inside, sitting on our sofa together. His head was in my lap, and I played with his hair, waiting for the day I would see him cry at our wedding.


End file.
